PSL for Renart

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Comments

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Yeah, it wouldn't be much of a deterrent if you enjoyed it, would it?

[Though that depends on how much she doesn't like it, and there's a tiny worm of guilt threading through his chest in case tail pulling is worse than he thinks it is.]

...is it really that bad?

[aigue]

[She just grumbles at him. No, no it would not.]

It's disrespectful.

[It's a blunt answer, and after a moment of thought, she adds:]

Most of the time. I know you aren't like that.

[advanced]

[It’s nice to hear that she knows he wouldn’t deliberately abuse something like that, it’s a measure of trust he doesn’t want to break.]

Why? What makes it more disrespectful than mussing your hair or tweaking an ear?

[Is this a fox thing or a Renart thing?]

[aigue]

My tail is my best feature.

[She sniffs, moving to sit on the ground so that she can curl her tail into her lap.]

People have tried to kill and skin me for my tail fur, you know. It was how I died when I was a fox.

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[He can't help the tiny flinch, a tensing of his fingers into a fist before he forces them to relax. That's much worse than he ever could have imagined, and he's damn sure never going to touch her tail without permission again.

Apologies stick in his throat, and so he settles for something else, voice soft.]

I don't think it's your best feature.

[aigue]

[That she's comfortable enough bringing it up to him speaks volumes, and she's glad he isn't asking about that whole mess any further.

She shifts a little, her expression mildly curious.]

No? Then what is?

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[He opens his mouth and then abruptly closes it again with an audible click of his teeth, the lightest of flushes at his cheeks. It’s just occurred to him that answering would bring them right back to the situation he’d been trying to get away from.

Damn it, Barnes, think before speaking.]

Pretty sure telling you would violate our agreement.

[aigue]

[Renart is quiet for several seconds, narrowing her eyes.

Of course he's going to say that, why would he indulge her now?

Having absolutely no intention of hiding her hurt she abruptly stands, walking over to her backpack where she'll pull out a bottle of wine, because of course that's what she brought on a camping trip. Booze.

She goes and takes a seat on the log, her back to him, pops the bottle open, and starts drinking.]

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[Damn it.

He had hoped she wouldn’t take that as an insult, but apparently he hoped for too much. He sighs and leans over a bit to look at her back, weighing up whether the risk of flirtation outweighs wanting to ease her hurt. This time, because of her loss, providing some comfort wins out.]

Your eyes.

[He sounds a bit embarrassed as he continues.]

I’d never seen golden eyes before I met you. They’re... warm, remind me hot days and days where things hurt less.

[aigue]

[She remains quiet, even after he's spoken, but upon hearing the compliment she'll lower the bottle.

It should feel nice to have won that battle, and a little part of her does, but mostly what's taking over her is a sinking regret for pushing him into admitting that aloud. She looks down at the wine, frowning.]

Thanks.

[And after a beat:]

Sorry.

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[It feels like exposing something raw to give that sort of compliment, even to someone he trusts as much as Renart, and he appreciates that doing so has made Renart reflect a bit on her own behaviour.

He shrugs, even though she still has her back to him and can’t see it.]

It’s fine. You lost someone, something like that makes a person act out, get angry or— whatever, mostly at whoever’s closest.

[He pushes up and moves to sit next to her, to rest a hand on her shoulder.]

Besides, you do have nice eyes.

[aigue]

[She doesn't like reflecting on her behaviour. She likes being petty and getting drunk, not feeling bad for hurting a friend. A soft, mildly frustrated exhalation leaves her, and she slumps when she feels his hand on her shoulder.]

... For the record, you have nice eyes, too.

[She gives him a small glance.]

And that isn't just me trying to wind you up.

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[He appreciates the apology, he knows self reflection isn't easy for her, and so he'll attempt to lighten the mood.]

I know, I'm real handsome.

[Or he used to be, anyway.]

Listen... I'm sorry I pulled your tail, I won't do it again. Not now I know.

[aigue]

[She inhales deeply.]

It's fine. You're allowed to pull it sometimes, just not when I'm upset. Alright?

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[There's a beat of hesitation, before he leans in to wrap his arm around her shoulders companionably. He's not going to pull it again no matter what she says.]

Why didn't you tell me before?

[aigue]

[When he touches her she glances over, eyebrows raised - with her behaviour lately she's shocked he's being his close - but she isn't going to complain. After a moment she leans against him.]

You had good intentions. I appreciate that you cared.

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Idiot.

[It's soft and fond, though there is a slight thread of exasperation running through it too.]

I want you to tell me this stuff. It doesn't matter what my intentions are, if what I'm doing is wrong.

[aigue]

[She huffs quietly.]

I can try to be more honest, I suppose.

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Good, because I think we've had enough lies between us.

[It's an old wound, the lies, but it still sticks sometimes.]

So how about you start being honest about how you're feeling with Monty gone?

[aigue]

....

[She goes quiet, and looks away.]

I don't want to.

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I know.

[Soft, but firm.]

But I think you need to.

[aigue]

[She purses her lips.]

Can I finish my wine first?

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Depends. How much wine did you bring?

[Finish the glass, fine. Finish several bottles, not so much.]

[aigue]

A couple of bottles.

[Yeahhhh she knows he isn't going to let her drink all of them and get totally plastered.]

... Finish this one with me, at least?

[advanced]

You know it's pointless giving me a drink, right?

[But he holds out his hand for it all the same, because it'll stop her drinking the whole thing.]

The serum stops me from getting drunk.